If you guys are wondering, they're in the first grade of lower school last chapter. I'm not that familiar with Japanese education so I'm following my country's. So last chapter, Kuroh is technically 6 years old. xD
K doesn't belong to me, it belongs to its respective owners, GoRa and GoHands.
"Shiro, you never told me about your family." A young boy, his most distinctive feature was his white hair and orange eyes, turned to the call of his name, blinking at the sudden question. "Nor have you told me where you live... I mean, yeah..."
Kuroh pouted a bit, staring up at the other boy in curiosity. For the time they have been together, and that's everyday, mind you, he only realized that moment that he didn't know a lot of things about Shiro.
The whitenette had no favorite color, he wasn't that picky with food since he ate everything that was offered to him. He didn't even have a favorite animal, as simple a question that may be. Shiro was plainly neutral about everything so Kuroh knew a lot about Shiro but at the same time, nothing at all.
For him, he thinks that Shiro had no sense of justice. He wasn't being mean but Shiro could not distinct which are the good and bad people at all. Not that Shiro couldn't tell, but more likely, he didn't take sides. He was neutral, he was neither good or bad.
Shiro only laughed, his petite hands trying to conceal his laughter. Kuroh merely pouted even more. He didn't like being teased. The white-haired boy lifted his head to look up at the clear blue sky, tilting his head back. Not even a speck of cloud decorated the sky that day.
"What's so funny?"
"I j-just thought... You would never a-ask Kuro-kun." The laughter died into soft giggles until silence finally overtakes the young boy. The ravenette had wondered if Shiro would tell him though, just by the prolonged silence that wafted over them. The boy had leaned back a bit, closing his eyes. He seemed to be pondering on something deep, something that seemed to bother him. The wind that blew past them ruffled their hair and made their clothes wrinkle with the flow of invisible and relaxing force.
He didn't expect the answer that came next nor the tears that started to roll down the flushed cheeks, the concrete underneath them drenched by each drop that landed on the ground.
"You're my only family right now, Kuroh. Promise you won't ever forget me? If I get lost... Please find me."
The tears Shiro shed that day, it still confused him. It seemed as though... He was afraid of disappearing. Of being left alone. To become colorless to everyone's eyes. A hand reached out to pat the whitenette's head, smoothening out the messy locks of white hair. Kuroh just smiled brightly at him.
"Why would I forget you, Shiro? We're best friends... If you are in trouble, I'd gladly pull you out of it." Kuroh can't stand his friend, his only friend, being in such trouble. He was in too much trouble himself so he didn't want his friend to experience such sadness alike to his own despair. It didn't suit Shiro to be sad at all.
Hand in hand, both boys walked down the side path, walking down the path to Kuroh's home. It seemed long, but the two of them simply laughed, enjoying their usual chat and each others' presence.
Bright blue eyes opened suddenly, a sharp intake of breath bringing color to the male's too pale and sweating face. The man just breathed deeply, as if what he had just seen disturbed him entirely. What was that? Or rather, who was that?
The night was still young but he felt as though he had slept and dreamt for hours already. The bed creaked as he pushed the thick blanket off himself and moved to sit up on the bed. When his bare feet touched the floor, he shivered at the freezing temperature it had.
Black silky hair cascaded down his shoulders, too smooth to be kept behind his ear. A few strands were stubborn enough to move from its respective place, slipping in front of his face, much to his annoyance.
His name was Yatogami Kuroh, already a graduate of Ashinaka high school.
There was not much about him, the only thing that seemed interesting about him was that he carried a sword, an actual weapon, with him always. The sword came from his father for his eighteenth birthday. Ever since he got the sword, he showed great talent in wielding it and he kept it around him. He felt safer with it.
His father lived in the town near his school, Shizume city. He didn't know what his job was but it was something related to photography or something. He didn't really care.
He glanced at the wooden table beside his bed, a black notebook, binded with mahogany wood, sat untouched by the lampshade. It was his uncle's journal. His uncle... Miwa Ichigen. The only possession that man had that was left with him, his nephew. He was told to only read through it when he reaches his eighteenth birthday and to do what needs to be done.
Kuroh never understood his uncle but as far as he could remember, he always respected him. Everything that came out of the man's lips were always painted with elegance and avant-garde wisdom that not even an old man with experience can match. But the words he left, Kuroh was more confused than before.
He was only a child of three years when Miwa died, entrusting a journal to such a boy. He didn't get it. Why would his uncle do that? And the last page of the journal, it confused him even more. Grabbing the notebook with no hesitation at all, he reached for the notebook and looked at the back page. Words written in graceful script, words that Kuroh couldn't even get at all.
'The first lights, showing the shadow of a foreign king. The new Colorless king must be judged, and slain when deemed unworthy.'
Kuroh didn't get it. What is the 'King', his uncle spoke of anyway? He had looked it up the internet, there was no such thing that existed in Japan, the only close information he had to that was the emperors and the government of Japan. What was Miwa Ichigen up to anyway?
"Uncle... Please tell me what I should do." He whispered to himself, his face buried in his palms. He was so confused. Was he supposed to kill the prime minister? Most likely not. Even if the prime minister is the most powerful man, it just didn't fit in the description. Colorless King. It also said that it was the seventh king. Did that mean, there are others as well?
His deep thoughts were interrupted by the ringing and vibration of his PDA. He glanced at where the sound came from and grabbed the device from its resting place beside his pillow. He stared at the caller ID for a moment, blinking. Shizume memorial hospital? He chose to accept the call, bringing the receiver close to his ear to hear the voice on the other side.
It was a female's voice, and it spoke in a professional manner. She sounded like police. Kuroh wondered in his head why he was being called, this late at night. He glanced at his clock. It was a few minutes before the long hand indicates it was near three in the morning. At each word the police woman spoke, he gradually found himself unable to speak as he took in the words.
This wasn't possible.
"What... What do you mean my father was murdered?" He couldn't believe it with his own ears. This can't be!
"Your father, along with a fellow photographer, were found in a rooftop with a gunshot wound, apparently both died on the spot due to blood loss, by two men. We are currently looking for any evidences but seemed as though there was nothing left in the crime scene-" He didn't hear anymore as he dropped his phone, making a loud thud on the ground.
No, it couldn't be. It can't be.
But it was true.
His hands clenched. He will find the killer and kill him, if it was the last thing he does.